


Phil's Petrol

by tomanonuniverse



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomanonuniverse/pseuds/tomanonuniverse
Summary: “Oh man, dude, you scared the shit out of me!” The man laughs nervously, sweat lining his brow as he pants in frightened breaths. Michael blinks at him, unresponsive as he’s always been. He didn’t have time for this. But the man looked him up and down and cleared his throat. “You must be the new guy the boss told me was coming in today!”The new guy?Michael looked down at his coveralls then back up at the man. Oh.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield & Michael Myers, Dwight Fairfield/Michael Myers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 134





	Phil's Petrol

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO im late to the party but i love DbD let's get this show on the ROAD

Michael played along with his psychiatrist’s attempts to keep him at bay for far too long. He’d wished and hoped and thought that maybe this  _ was  _ the best course of action. Maybe it  _ was  _ the only way to keep people around him safe. But as he’d come to realize that he himself was in danger, he escaped. Because Michael Myers didn’t want to die, no matter how much of a relief it would be to so many, including himself. 

The Voices never stopped, they never left him. He tried telling his mother about them when he was younger, tried to get her to do  _ something,  _ but she never did. His six-year-old self had much weaker will than he does now so of course he gave in as early as he did. He thought that maybe if he did what the Voices wanted, they’d leave him alone.

They didn’t. Instead, they simply took Michael’s own. He was too traumatized to speak, once he’d done the deed they’d been ordering him to do for so long. When he found them  _ still  _ talking to him, he became hopeless. He stood over his older sister’s body with wide eyes and waited until someone came for him. Maybe they would help him. 

They didn’t, either. They tried, but they gave up and started to only help themselves. So Michael decided to take matters into his own hands. Maybe  _ this  _ time, he thinks,  _ this  _ time they’ll go away, once he takes care of Cynthia, then himself. 

He didn’t intend to kill other people to reach his baby sister, he just didn’t care  _ who  _ had to die in order for him to reach her. Which is why his first innocent victim was a large man that was on the outskirts of town, all alone, smoking a cigarette. It was only after he’d killed him and taken his coveralls did Michael look at the sign near them and, to his horror, found that it read something he didn’t expect. 

_ Welcome to Clifton, New Jersey! _

What the hell is a “Clifton?” 

He growls lowly, frustrated and confused. He’s aware that New Jersey is another state. He just doesn’t know this state. He doesn’t even know how far it is from Illinois or which direction he should go to start heading home. He doesn’t know  _ anything.  _ Being locked up in a nuthouse for fifteen years does that to you. 

So, he does the only logical thing next. He grabs the body of the man he just strangled and shoves him back into his own car then makes his way further into this  _ Clifton  _ place. Maybe there could be something to help him find out where Haddonfield is in the city. Hopefully he can avoid people. It won’t be long until he’s on the news.

He doesn’t know how long he walks for. The sun sets and night falls and for a moment, Michael looks up to the stars above him. It had been years since he’d last seen them. He always used to see them in Haddonfield. But when they put him away, there were no windows for him to look through to see the stars. 

Only when a nearly blinding white light assaults his vision does Michael look to its source with distaste, only to freeze. In front of him was a gas station, those places his father would stop at to refill his car’s fuel. The bright white flashing sign read  _ “Phil’s Petrol”  _ in big blue letters. 

Michael stands stone still, hoping the night’s darkness keeps him hidden as he assesses his next move. This gas station could be a blessing or a curse. A blessing, if there was a map around to help him figure out where the hell to start. A curse, if there were people inside, and the news about him was already spread. 

Deciding to take the risk, Michael takes purposeful strides towards the station. There were no cars outside, which was good. The station had a few stores around it, some for food and a place that appeared to be a mechanic’s, if all the wheels were any indication. Frankly, Michael didn’t give a damn. He just wanted a map. 

Finally, he spots one near one of the fuel tanks. He heaves a sigh of relief and moves towards it, hoping it wasn’t just a map of the state but a map of the country. Whatever it was, he’ll be able to gather enough information to book it out of this place before someone discovers him and who he is, or worse, the body near the sign. 

Except the moment he’s close enough to examine the sign, someone who had been crouching stands up then turns around and faces Michael. The much shorter man emits a startled yelp, flying backwards and gripping at his chest. Michael won’t lie and say the man didn’t surprise him too but he doesn’t visibly react, hoping the other would just move and let him read the map.

“Oh man, dude, you scared the shit out of me!” The man laughs nervously, sweat lining his brow as he pants in frightened breaths. Michael blinks at him, unresponsive as he’s always been. He didn’t have time for this. But the man looked him up and down and cleared his throat. “You must be the new guy the boss told me was coming in today!” 

The new guy?

Michael looked down at his coveralls then back up at the man. Oh. 

Fixing his glasses, the man extends a hand to Michael. “I-I’m Dwight, Dwight Fairfield,” he introduces with a nervous smile. Michael stares down at the hand, unsure what he was supposed to do with it. He hadn’t spoken to anyone but that so-called  _ doctor  _ in far too long. He didn’t know what to do with himself. 

Dwight’s face falls just the slightest bit when the blond doesn’t answer him. He retracts his hand and pulls it behind his back, almost like he was embarrassed about what he’d attempted to do, which Michael assumes was to greet him. “Right. Well, um… Welcome to Phil’s Petrol! What’s, uh… What’s your name?” 

Again, Michael looks down at him unblinkingly. Were it not for the rise and fall of his chest, Dwight would have thought the man was a statue. 

“Do you…” Dwight starts uncertainly, brows pinched as he looks for the right words. “Do you talk?”

Now that, Michael can answer. He shakes his head. 

For some reason, Dwight seems to perk up and beam just like the stars above their heads. “That’s okay!” He exclaims far too brightly, though Michael doesn’t complain. He’s mostly just confused, if anything. Why Dwight was so excited to be talking with him was beyond him.

The other hums in thought for a moment then tilts his head at Michael. “Do you know sign language?” He asks. Michael blinks at the question, then shakes his head again. He remembers a nurse that had tried to teach him sign language a long time ago, but he never learned it from her. He didn’t  _ want  _ to be able to communicate with people anymore. No one would understand him anyway. 

“Oh, I’ve got it!” Dwight suddenly says. “Wait here!” 

Michael watches him vanish into the store in nothing but confusion. The sign is right behind him, he could turn around and read it, get what he needs, and leave before Dwight comes back. Yet, he finds himself staring in the direction the man had gone, actually waiting for him to return. He chalks it up to curiosity to sate the Voices demanding him to move.

Just as they began to cause a ruckus in his head, Dwight returned and they fell quiet. Michael’s eyes widened at the realization, though he schooled his expression before the shorter man could see it. The Voices were silent when Dwight was there. That never happened before. What did that mean?

He wasn’t paying attention to anything he was being told, not until Dwight stopped talking. Michael looks down at what was being offered to him and furrows his brows. It was a small whiteboard, an even smaller black marker next to it. He looks back to Dwight’s face, who only gives him a soft smile and nudges him with the board.

Michael doesn’t know what it is about Dwight’s encouraging expression that tempts him to actually take the whiteboard. For a moment, he holds it tightly in his hands. He  _ could  _ kill him with this. Smash it over his head then kill him while he was disoriented. But Dwight simply eyes him patiently, eyes wide and innocent and waiting for  _ something,  _ and Michael finds himself writing on the board before he knows it, if only to look away from the other’s smiling face.

He doesn’t clearly recall the last time he wrote something down, which is why it’s much more difficult than he remembers it to be. The letters are jumbled and pointy but he takes his time in writing them as neatly as he could, knowing Dwight would wait for him regardless. Finally, Michael seems satisfied with what he wrote, and hands the whiteboard over.

Dwight looks down at the board and blinks. “Michael,” he reads out loud, then looks up. “Is that your name? Michael?” 

He nods.

Dwight smiles at him and starts talking again, but Michael isn’t listening. He’s too busy being amazed at the fact that it’s  _ quiet. _

As he looks down at the shorter man, he figures that it can’t hurt to stay here a little longer.

**Author's Note:**

> IN THIS HOUSE we love baby dweet!!!! YEET!!!


End file.
